Even Jane, who had no head for business, had begun to pick up on the family problems.
“Do you really think it is as bad as they are making out?” Jane asked one morning in the drawing room, whispering the words not seconds after her mother had left the room in a terribly dark mood.
Emmaline gulped. She suspected the trouble was even more dire than Jane had picked up on. Though the cracks were beginning to show, Emmaline had a great admiration for the strength of her parents and how they had managed to keep things a secret for this long.
She wasn't even sure that her elder stepbrothers knew of the problems the family faced. She couldn't imagine so as they would never be so frivolous if they did. But she, as the natural born daughter of an earl and businessman, was party to it all.
She knew the pressure her father was under to keep wealth coming in and keep a roof over all of their heads, to pay the workers on his estate in the country and keep that house running as well, to keep his tenants happy and his business partners sated.
It was a lot to juggle, and Emmaline had begun to notice the first signs it wasn’t going well several days prior. Since the ball, her father seemed more and more lethargic, his skin beginning to sag on his face as if he had not been taking care of himself. She had noticed how he picked over his food at mealtimes even if the rest of the family hadn't.
Reaching out, Emmaline squeezed Jane's knee affectionately and said, “However bad it is, I'm sure all will work out in the end.”
As she spoke, a hard and painful lump swelled in her throat. The distinct sense that she was lying to her sister and to herself was quite uncomfortable.
“You would tell me, wouldn’t you?” Jane said, her eyes brimming with sisterly affection. “If something terrible was happening?”
Guilt tightened Emmaline's throat further. She gripped hold of her sister and pulled her in tight for a hug. “Of course I would.”
Closing her eyes behind her sister's head, she prayed again that the India shipment might arrive today. It had been over a week since their last communication. She couldn't remember the last time it had been so long.
“You should get on with your needlework,” Emmaline suggested when she released her sister. “I shall go and see what I can learn from Papa.”
She gave Jane one final squeeze on the knee before she stood and made her way from the room.
It appeared she had exited at just the right moment for she saw the butler wandering towards her father's downstairs office.
“Ruperts! Please, I can take that in,” Emmaline called after him, hurrying down the hall in a most unlady-like manner.
Ruperts turned with a knowing smile and dipped his head, offering her the letters from his silver platter. “Of course, My Lady. Might I bring you anything?”
“No, thank you, Ruperts,” Emmaline smiled from ear to ear. She needed nothing else but the letter on the top of the pile that she recognized immediately for the handwriting upon the envelope. Captain Morgensten's writing was most difficult to read but she had grown used to it over the various reports sent and just seeing it now filled her with hope.
“Thank you, Ruperts,” she said again, waiting for him to bow and leave before she made her way to her father's study.
Rapping her knuckles delicately on the hardwood, she listened for her father's response.
“Come in!” he called. Even his voice sounded tired and some of Emmaline’s hope faded.
Gulping hard, she entered the room with a smile. “Papa, news has come!”
At that, her father jumped up from his desk and rushed around to meet her in the center of the room
The way he bounced on his heels suggested he was as hopeful as she.
Grabbing his golden letter opener from his desk, he tore off the wax from the back of the letter and unfolded it. It seemed he skimmed the letter, reading faster than ever before, lips moving in silent reading as he did so.
And Emmaline watched the light go out of his eyes.
His hand clutched to his chest. “I… I don't believe it,” he stammered, reeling backwards.
Fearing he might fall, Emmaline hurried forward and gripped his arm to guide him to the nearest armchair.
“Papa? What is it? Whatever is the matter?”
Her father did not respond. He simply shoved the letter at her, placing his head in his hands.
Frantic, Emmaline gripped the letter and turned it over and over until she once more found the right orientation. And as she read it, she wished she hadn't.
